


Hotdogs Throughout the Ages

by spastasmagoria (Spastasmagoria)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, hotdogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spastasmagoria/pseuds/spastasmagoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and his fixation on hotdogs..throughout the ages.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotdogs Throughout the Ages

Location: TARDIS Kitchen (the one with the cooking equipment, not that dreadful abomination with creepy machine), parked somewhere in London (in a dump, ok? It just kind of ended up there. There was a steering malfunction…)

Time: 1964, AD

"And just what is it we're supposed to do with these things, hmm?" The Doctor glared at his young companion. "Perhaps we should simply throw them away and drink the water."

The girl looked up from the boiling cast iron pot. "Grandfather, you eat them."

The Doctor sniffed, tugging on his lapel. "I will do no such thing. I don't even know what is in those…abominations."

XYZ

"You've never had a hotdog?" Zoe pouted.

The Doctor stepped between his two companions. "Zoe, as unimaginable as it is, Jamie is from a time before Hotdogs."

Her big round eyes narrowed. "I didn't mean him. I meant you."

The Doctor tugged on his coat collar. "Yes. Well. There's a story that goes with that…"

Jamie picked a hotdog off of the tray that had been shoved under their prison cell door and bit into it.

XYZ

Inside the TARDIS, Kitchen (The one with the creepy machine thing in it. But only after it had been reprogrammed to pop out Jelly Babies, Rice Crispy Treats and ballpark hotdogs)

When Romana pushed the paper plate away in disgust, the Doctor reached across the small table and took it from her. With a hotdog in each hand, he ate away, happily. "Don't know what you're missing," he said around a mouth full of food.

She waved her hands in front of her. "They look repulsive."

Licking his lips, the Doctor swallowed. "They're an Earth delicacy!"

"I didn't read anything in my manual about them."

Squirting more mustard onto Romana's hotdog, the Doctor shrugged. "Not everything in the universe can be found in text books. Did I ever tell you about the time I saved the Earth with just foamy hotdog water?"

Romana shuddered and looked away.

XYZ

L.A., 1997 (that sunny afternoon before the Boffin invasion. You won't remember it, time rewrote itself. But There were Boffins. And they were invading.)

"Are you sure you should be eating that?" Peri whinnied at the Doctor.

The Doctor took a bite out of the hotdog and took a moment to enjoy it before responding. "It's just a hotdog, Peri. And besides–my superior Time Lord constitution can handle a bit of processed meat."

She poked him in the stomach. "But can you waste line handle it?"

XYZ

Altronian Street Vendor, 307894, AD.

Mel ripped the hotdog out of the Doctor's hands.

"But I was eating that…" he whined gently.

The red-headed girl wagged a finger in front of his face. "You don't even know what's in those things."

The Doctor adjusted the red handle of his umbrella to a place further up his forearm. "It's a great mystery to the universe, Mel. One we're not meant to solve. Now give it back before it gets cold."

He nearly lunged for the thing as she threw it into a huge metal bin. "You don't need this. I have carrots right here…"

The Doctor dove into the bin after it.

XYZ

London, 2005

He was trapped, and there was no way out.

Mostly because Mickey was standing in front of the closed kitchen door, smirking smugly with a smudge of mustard on his face.

Alliteration aside, this was just–intolerable. "I'm not hungry."

"Eat anyways," Jackie said, waving the hotdog folded neatly into a white bread bun in his face.

It smelled funny.

"Just eat the hotdog," Mickey ordered, licking his thumb clean. He still had that smudge of mustard.

Taking a step back, he folded his arms over his leather jacket but she came closer still, and he was running out of places to back up to.

He turned his head. "I don't eat boiled hotdogs!"

Wrong thing to say. He got the Jackie glare of death. "You'll eat what I tell you to eat!"

"Jackie, you don't even know what's in those things!"

"And you do?"

He pushed the hotdog away. "Stuff that should never be boiled!"

The kitchen door swung open, pushing Mickey out of the way. "Mum, quit trying to feed him." Rose grabbed the Doctor's hand and dragging him out of the kitchen.

Performing well-timed rescues was a requirement for companions. But it seemed a little odd to be rescued from said companion's mother. And a boiled hotdog.

XYZ

Alternate Earth, 2007-ish (time being hard to calculate when it's moving at a different rate on a parallel world)

Cyberman invasion and nearly-deceased TARDIS aside, the Doctor quite wanted a hotdog. Making his way with Mrs. Moore down the frosty, dark tunnel, the Doctor wondered how to broach the subject. Even a boiled one would be fine.

Boiled weren't so bad. As long as you didn't think too much about the hotdog water. The only thing worse than hotdog water was cold hotdog water. And the only thing worse than that was cold hotdog water with a foam on top.

Still–Jackie made good hotdogs. She boiled them just right. Not this world's Jackie. That Jackie was dead and she probably had never made a hotdog a day in her life. Well, maybe one day when she was bored. Bored and hungry perhaps.

Hotdogs were kind of like Cybermen when you thought about it…  
XYZ

123211 AD, the planet Woods

The Doctor fidgeted.

Donna looked up from the fire and the food she was preparing to roast. "What? Don't tell me you're scared of the dark."

"Of course not," he blustered. "But there's a reason why my people built their cities inside big domes!"

"Cougars?" Donna nudged him. "Come on. It's just one night. My granddad and I used to go camping all the time. We'd roast weenies and look at the stars. It wasn't that bad at all."

"Humans are the only race in the universe that go camping," the Doctor pointed out solemnly.

Donna pointed with the stick she was working with toward a wall that was on the other side of the forest. "Which is why they'll never see us comin' in the morning."

Scooting closer to the fire, the Doctor sighed. "What're you making?"

The question was answered, however, when she stuck an impaled piece of processed meat over the fire. It hissed and turned black rather quickly.

"What are you doing? You are defiling my hotdog!"

When it actually caught fire, she pulled it away. Waiting for it to cool just a bit, she cracked off the outer skin to reveal juicy innards. "Look, sunshine, I'm not harming your hotdog. I thought you were supposed to be clever."

He took the stick from her and contemplated the juicing meat. "What? I am clever."

"Right, sure." Piercing another hotdog, Donna punched him in the arm.

XYZ

Gibsonia, PA, 1988

Jack and the Doctor leaned against the ice cream case, waiting for their to-go order. It had been a bit hefty; they'd be there for a while.

"Can I get one of those ice cream clown things with the cone heads?" The Doctor asked as a waitress with a big tray passed.

Jack sighed. "Can't you focus for a minute?" He'd known the man for over three hundred years, through three regenerations, through losing Rose and getting her back…even through acquiring a broken "pet" Dalek… This current turn shouldn't surprise him, but it did. Jack just lacked imagination like that.

The Doctor crammed his baseball cap sheepishly down over his sandy blonde hair. "Well, it's going to take them a while to make a hundred hotdogs–grilled. I was just thinking. That's enough time to eat an ice cream clown thing."

"Rose will kill you if we don't just get back to the TARDIS. Lets just get the things and get on with it. Before the Vogalratians destroy the universe."

The Doctor moaned. "But…it's got little eyes…and it's made out of ice cream…"

Jack sighed. "Why did the hotdogs need to be grilled, and not beef, and not kosher?"

"To intensify the MSG's effectiveness," the Doctor explained, instantly forgetting about the ice cream." The Doctor started longingly looking at the various ice creams in the display case.

"And why did we need to come to this restaurant specifically for that?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Because what I don't use on the Vogalratians, I plan on eating, and I like the grilled buns."

With an unhappy sigh, Jack wished he could die.

The register clerk brought up the first two large paper bags full of styrophome containers, which the Doctor gladly took. "They're…magnificent, Jack. Why do you think I keep saving this planet?"

"You've developed an addiction," the former Time Agent mumbled.

The Doctor grinned. "I could stop if I wanted to. But who in their right mind would want to?"

The end


End file.
